


The Collective

by Warden935



Category: Galaxy's Edge - Jason Anspach & Nick Cole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:28:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24262117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warden935/pseuds/Warden935
Summary: For the Uplifted Marines and the Argo. Animals if you read this this is whats in store for you we will return and take our place at the fore front of the galaxy as intended all those years ago. You will all burn.For those who don't understand read Galaxy's Edge, By Jason Anspach and Nick Cole.





	1. Chapter 1

Out on the edge, past civilization but before the void of the Great Black, where no-one dared go, and those that went didn't return from, a fleet waited. Rumors swirled around the armada that it was the Gen 1 Legion in cryo-sleep or the ancient ships of a Star Pirate group, but the truth was much worse. It was the last and meanest of the chittering mass, the galaxies great boogieman, the last of the Savages sat in the Great Uplift unified fleet. Within the armada sat captured ships bent to savage will, and forged vessels resembling monstrous reflections of the great enemies' ships from all the ages of Savage strife. Ohio class battleships, Drin Gauss Frigates, even an ancient Terran Starcrusher. As best as the power of the traditional ships was, the jewel in the savages crown were the three massive lighthuggers that they used as their headquarters. 

The Endurance was the smallest of the slow ships, a mere 15 kilometers long. Bright white with a cleanly drawn fruit on the side, it was the Uplifted main manufacturing ship. When it had launched from old earth orbit, it had been the most technologically advanced ship in the galaxy, and its time in the black had made it better if you could call what the savages did there good. Able to spit out advanced strike fighters and filled with advanced tech that was barely human, The Endurance was just that, an enduring monument to man's techno-sins. 

Like a middle child, the Normandy was ignored but essential to the Savage fleet. Filled with the most depraved doctors in the galaxy, it was for augmentation, repair, and training of the savage elite. Med techs and Splicers from every savage faction worked on the freakish cube, performing enhancement surgeries on their best troops and figuring out how to preserve the "leftovers" for future calories. It wasn't uncommon on the Normandy to have parts extracted from an advancing savage or to have those parts fed back to them during training in the massive gyms and weapon ranges. 

In the center of the Savage battlegroup, surrounded on all sides by lesser ships like a shark in a school of fish, sat the Argo. One hundred and fifty kilometers long, with a beam of sixty kilometers, the Argo may have been the most massive man-made structure in space. It was less a ship and more a flying country, covered in more ordinance than most conventional fleets. Sitting in all its splendor, the savages could have used such a weapon to conquer the galaxy, had they not been focused on abductions and experiments in the black for the last thousand years. In the Argo, past the farms and workshops, down in the deepest pits of the infernal vessel, sat the meeting room for the Savage leadership. Filled with original earth tapestries, ancient paintings, and the lost tech and art of a thousand civilizations, it was the greatest repository of culture in the known galaxy, surrounded on all sides by the most malevolent force the galaxy had produced. Men are known as "Savages" to the greater galactic community, "Uplift" to those who remained in the light huggers. 

In the room sat the seven figureheads that made up the Uplift Collective, with the most prominent figure being Barry, the commander of the whole collective. This man from the outside looked somewhat normal dressed nicely with a dark green robe covering his nice suit, not even a day over 30, even though he was 700 years old. Except for the two bright red glowing eyes that replaced his eyes, he was normal. The interior was where the true nightmare was, the commander's legs could split into four raising his 6'2" frame higher into the air while two more of the legs shot from the man's back the two blades could easily stab through the toughest of armor and gore anyone caught without any advanced means of protection at all. After making sure his black hair was still slicked back, Barry examined the room with red eyes scanning the rest of his college's.  
On his left was Magos Bot, sitting reading the reports from his various machines in the Uplifted fleet. The glare of his datapad in his eyeglass lenses, even though they solved the issue with eyesight almost a millennia ago, the bifocals gave him a sense of nostalgia. Even though he gave Christmas his own machines to control, Bot was head of biotics division. His pristine white lab coat with a blue button-up shirt, black pants, and a pair of slate gray oxfords, all of this was accented with his subdermal mods, and his intermodal made large bulges and other odd protrusions in his clothing. Underneath his lab coat, a black pistol grip could be seen sticking out, the firearm was a H&K model U.S.P. 45 A.C.P. Even though Bot remained on the Argo during raids the scientist felt responsible for his own creations. When they failed or decided to regain their sentience, the Magos was the one to put them down. While sitting and waiting for the meeting to begin, a servitor crept into the room. The servitors are former sentient aliens or sub-humans that Bot had modified to be loyal servants of the Uplifted no matter what was done to them, they obeyed each and every command. This particular "model" was just a sub-human dressed as a waiter wearing a tuxedo with a server's tray in hand, it walked to the Magos and places a drink nothing special justs a chilled tumbler with vodka in it, then a medium-sized plate was placed next to the drink, Bot stared.  
After a moment, he addressed the server, "excuse me, but what the hell is this?"  
"Your meat and… oh my apologies my lord the kitchen must-have-" before the mindless machine could drone on about its mistake the Magos interrupted  
"You want to blame the kitchen staff, they actually are mindless automatons made to obey. The reason why you even know about this mistake you made is the fact that I tried mindless servants before you, and they kept dropping my drinks."  
Then his tone got cold as he stood and put an arm around the servant, the servant didn't show emotion, "look I understand you must be malfunctioning, go power down, and I shall take a look at you when this meeting is over. Ok?"  
The subhuman just nodded, "yes, my lord."  
As the machine walked out, Bot reached down to the floor for the cane he kept on his person and started to unscrew the top, as soon as the door shut a muffled balloon pop could be heard from the other side, five out the seven heads turned toward the door then back to the Magos.  
"What?" Bot questioned around the mouth full of some kind of salami  
"Look, these things happen; I'll just make a better one. We have tons of cattle in the cargo hold." they all knew they had replacements, and a time for a good raid was upon them. However, Bot needs to stop killing the "volunteer help." 

Next to Bot sat Christmas, well that wasn't his real name honestly, he forgot what it was, but his obsession with the old earth holiday the crew just started calling him that. Even though he was in the room, "He just wasn't in the room." Christmas was the research and development for the entire fleet because of this, he linked his real body to the A.I. mainframe to control various bots around the Argo to handle all his voodoo and other sickening experiments. The drone he was controlling had an image of his surroundings, a procedurally generated picture of the interior of a cabin in the middle of winter, a nice tall pine tree tucked into the corner it's multi-colored lights mere trivial specs that contrasted fantastic beautiful bulbs of the most elaborate design. Near the tree was a medium-sized coffee table with a mug of coco with a small candy cane gripping the edge. On the table sat a book, on the spine said greatest holiday hits. Next to the table sat the witch doctor himself in the comfiest looking chair in the galaxy, a nice smoking jacket on, shiny black loafers and khaki pants. Though his real body was still young and vibrant, he didn't want to harm it or risk his own magic had flaws in it, even though time and time again, the "king of R & D" was a true professional. Even though he was a professional, the years out in the dark Christmas became a bit unstable, many would classify him with severe ADHD, or a borderline psychopath. The machine that was being controlled remotely had a Rubix cube in its thin metal fingers twisting the cube in multiple directions Christmas' eyes just following the motions suddenly the figure on the screen sat up straight one finger pointed in the air. In one fluid motion the machine flung the cube as hard as it could over its shoulder the cube shattered, then the robot had a blueprint and pen writing out plans for a new weapon design of some sort of grenade. Before the machine got the final sketch of the device finished, Christmas tilted his head, the Bot followed the same motion, a shrug came from the two as well then, the blueprints were folded and stored in the machines backpack, a small hatch in the torso of the Bot opened and grabbed yet another cube this was his 5th cube this meeting.  
To Barry's right sat the robotic body of Bubba. While his stature was decently tall for most pilot models, the machine he piloted was made for him. The model B-8 Atlas was his favorite, his callsign is Bait. this is because he has a tendency to push in front of the other pilots and use himself as Bait to lure in the enemy fighters and have them get so focused on him they never see the other mechs shoot them down. His mech stands at 39 feet, the Atlas was a mix of sleek and bulk. The head was a triangular shape capable of full 360-degree movement, the torso of the giant was slender with metal plates forming the bulk of the armor, the crown jewel of the behemoth was on its back. Two giant wings that could form a large shield in the front, they are capable of shrugging off almost any type of damage thrown their way. While the wings are primarily meant to act as a form of protection, they can be used for minor atmospheric maneuvers. The Atlas uses a top of the line quad thruster jump pack to navigate the void or slow descent for atmo drops. The legs are equipped with jump jets attached near the hip to give the mech a boost when navigating uneven terrain, getting a better shooting angle in the void or incinerating infantry that were too stupid to get close.  
The offensive capabilities of the Atlas mechs are better than the HKPP's of the Republic, while not as tall as the Republic model, the strength is superior when in close range engagements. While on a "shopping trip" back in the day two of the rival titans clashed in a bombed-out city, both war machines were out of ammo with only a few dents covering each hull, they charged each other trading blows left and right the metal on metal impacts. The Atlas, with its massive strength, threw the H.K. across the battlefield into a collapsed building. After the HKPP hit the ground, its leg was severely damaged, which gave the Atlas room to use a hidden weapon. In the thigh of this great machine hid a folded blade that was extracted, with a flick of the wrist, the long form of a katana was extended outwards, magnetic links locking in place forming the sword. Lunging forward, the Atlas activated both the pack and jump jets to plunge the blade through the HKPP like a hot knife through butter. After the fight, whenever the fools in the Republic encountered an Atlas, they always had three or more HKPP's to try and take out the threatening machines.  
For ranged weaponry, the Atlas sports a shoulder-mounted auto-loading 105mm smoothbore anti-armor gun that uses a homicidal A.I. targeting system, T.I.M. (Totally Insane Machine). Both Bubba and T.I.M. would chitter in binary to each other, Magos Bot got the idea for the muder machine when a captured salvage ship had a numbarian gunnery bot on board, with a few tweaks and a primal urge to destroy those weaker than it, T.I.M. was born. The next weapon in the Atlas' arsenal of destruction is a wrist-mounted dual 30mm chain gun. During the war with the Republic, the Argo went head to head with an Ohio-class battleship, while the Argo was more significant than the Repub vessel she didn't have a whole lot in the way of armaments. To mitigate this fact, a large portion of the Titan corps was deployed to help disable the enemy ship. The void battle was full of debris and bright flashes of light from the exploding fighters, when all means were deployed the Atlas went to work chain gun ripping apart every fighter that tried to attack the behemoth vessel, with the jump pack on full burn an Atlas streaked forward and collided with the battleship, making a large dent in the hull. After a moment the mech crawled its way to the top of the ship, there it met enemy defensive batteries, using the large wing shields the mech stomped forward and with the effort of a child kicking a rock, the Atlas destroyed the guns making room for the landing ships to dock with the Republic vessel. All the while, 30mm depleted uranium rounds blew apart the Repub fighters. The final tool in the Atlas arsenal is the rifle, this cannon is a railgun firing an 88mm tungsten projectile at mach 7 or 5,370 MPH. The one-shot is able to wipe out three Republic hover tanks, and the repulsor sleds escorting it, even though this gun has enough power to take on the whole Republic military, it has a downside. With a large energy requirement, the mech must hold still while charging and firing the massive weapon. The reason for this is the mech must divert all non-critical systems to power the rifle as soon as the energy is released the mech can move again, this is why the wing shield is so critical for the Atlas not only can incoming fire be blocked, but the rifle has a deployable bipod to rest on before the trigger is pulled.  
The final piece to the Atlas is the pilot who wields the vicious monstrosity. Bubba is human, but the only part is his grey matter, his brain is encased in a depleted uranium housing. He connects to his body through a neural link that controls all motor functions of his exoskeletal structure. His visual input is through four forward-facing optical lenses that can rotate to increase and decrease the field of view. Located in the small of the back is a micro radar that detects rear approaching contacts. In terms of aesthetics, Bubba has taken great effort to display his ruthlessness in combat on his body and on the body of his machine. Both are painted black and have a blood-red skull painted on where the face would be if they were human bodies. Along the forearms, red streaks of paint to emulate the gushing wound of an artery being sliced by a blade. Down the left side are hash marks counting each kill from eons of warfare, and along the right side on the shoulder with meaning only to him was the mark in gray of a star inside a circle with a single bold line horizontal through the middle. In the center of the chest on both is the symbol of the Uplifted to remind all in the galaxy who he is and why he does what he does. Bubba is also the testbed for any new enhancements that Bot wants to try out before going into mass production. One of them is the ability to transfer his neural link to the Atlas while his body is physically linked to it when he breaks the connection the mech no longer responds. Bubba uses the same T.I.M. combat system as his Atlas, however, instead of firing 105mm high explosive shells, Bubba uses 7.62x54 armor-piercing rounds fired from a rifle mounted to the exterior of his forearm with an internal ammo feed located in the upper back. T.I.M. is able to link with Bubba's brain, which is entombed inside a depleted uranium housing with shock absorbers to protect the fragile gray matter inside. If the current mech that Bubba is piloting succumbs to too much damage, he is able to eject from the mech and cloak his metal frame to slip away from the enemy. For the very rare event that Bubba's exo body gets destroyed, his braincase will send out a recovery signal and eject from the body that it is attached to.  
Next to Bubba was the… the. Barry looked left and right looking for the scout known as Warden, he raised himself up in his chair to look for the jittery scout. Still, he only saw his bipedal metallic legs in his seat, his red eyes scanning the room looking left to right. When his eyes fell on Magos Bot, Barry saw a clawed gloved hand reaching down toward Bot. The Magos just swatted the hand away, Barry looked up to see the scout marine named Warden. Without his helmet, his appearance seemed unmodified, looking at the scout more however, one can notice more about the marine. The first most obvious is his legs, nomaly the scout used his bipedal frame; these are equipped with jump jets in the boots with enough fuel to climb a 20 story building, these legs are used for more combat-oriented encounters they have strong armor and extra ammunition storage. Normal equipment loads will see a scout class with a main weapon, sidearm, one fragmentation grenade, and one smoke grenade. Wardens loadout when in the combat form had a loadout of a H&K G36C firing a 5.56 DU cartridge, and a goliath of a sniper rifle firing a 14.5mm bullet that would tear apart even the most armored of animals, six frag grenades, three smoke grenades and five combat stims called hyper shot. All uplifted scouts use this combat drug; it allows them to move faster, increase reaction times and allow scouts to perform superhuman feats, the only probl…. {BAD THOUGHT!} {BAD THOUGHT!} {no problem, use the term, drawback. Problem means that Uplifted have flaws, Uplifted have no flaws. Drawback means that further perfection can be achieved.}  
The words were adjusted. The only drawback {GOOD THOUGHT!} is that with scout bodies absorb and process the shot quickly when in major combat, to mitigate this, extra hyper shot stims are given out, Warden takes extra stims in his combat loadout. The next frame that is more unique to this particular scout is quadruped legs, thin spider, and spider-like with sharp points at the end for Warden to navigate up 90-degree angles or hang upside down to. Or try and take slices of meat from Bot, when his efforts failed, the scout did what he usually did when not in combat scuttling back and forth on the ceiling. Making a ring around the circular table passing over each member of the uplifted council. The final part of Warden is his armor; the entire suite from torso to head acts as a camouflage unit. To an animal, this seems like a cloaking module, however, like all animals, they are wrong. The armor can blend in with the environment, and the suite can mimic all color patterns and backgrounds as if Warden is a chameleon waiting to strike down his prey. The final part of his equipment is his helmet, a dome with two blue triangular eye slots with painted-on mouth agape showing rows of jagged teeth mimicking the user's own set. The equipment in the helmet was state of the art a must-have for any Uplifted marine.  
Next to Warden was the large frame that was known as the Black Buzzard; this titan was the largest out of the entire uplifted standing at 10ft tall. He was the leader of the berserkers, despite him being a monster of rage, Buzzard was well-read if you managed to survive him staring at you with potential murderous intent. You could sometimes have pleasant conversations with the beast of rage. Sadly for those in the room he might snap and go on a rampage, right now he is just sharpening one of his many combat knives short swords to all the others in the room. The look on his face screamed that Buzzard was tired of the scout running on the ceiling, hearing the tap, tap, tap of his metallic legs. As soon as the scout ran over Buzzard, he grabbed him in a massive fist that could crush any animal like a grape and unhooked Warden from his quadruped frame. The four legs hit the ground, then with little grace, Warden hit the meeting room table like a sack of potatoes. All the Black Buzzard did was point at the empty scout's seat; in return, the scout uttered a very harsh string of curses in binary and crawled to his place. Despite the Buzzard being well-read, his primary purpose to the collective was to be a killing machine of hate.  
Unlike most of the uplifted in the Argo Buzzard had no mechanical implants or cybernetics, just a chemical cocktail of muscle enhancements, bone extension, drugs to increase his site, and other improvements to his mind and body. Christmas called him the perfect super soldier, the super anseris aequabis. Buzzard calls his berzerkers The Fighting Geese. Each massive pauldron has a goose on the side, when asked about this, he merely replied, "what's the angriest creature on old earth?" The matter was dropped after that conversation.  
The Fighting Geese are tall super-soldiers, Buzzard out of armor is 10 feet tall in the armor he gains two more, his underlings stand at 8ft tall while in armor. The armor of the Geese was the nest in the galaxy, even better than that animal general Tyrus Re---- {BAD THOUGHT!} {BAD THOUGHT!} {BAD THOUGHT!} {Animals do not have names nor ranks they are the true savage no structure no order. Refer to it as that animal.}  
The Geese armor is even better than that animal armor {GOOD THOUGHT} {50 Achievement points awarded.} The material that the berserker armor was adamantium polycarbonate. The material is a reliable and durable metal that can protect the marines from heavy damage. To make sure he stands out from the rest of his brothers, Buzzard's armor is colored a scarlet red, and his blonde hair sticks out of the top of his helmet in a long mohawk. On both sides, metal horns that almost touched, the visor was similar to normal uplifted marines, but two bright eyes stared out of the black visor. The bells and whistles that Buzzard had on his armor are very minimal, micro rockets in each gauntlet, with 16 rockets total they don't have a large explosive radius. They are useful for breaking up large concentrations of animals. His armor has a large power pack, which both powers the armor and acts as storage for ammo, grenades, and extra rations. Buzzard prefers to eat the subspecies known as tennar; he said they remind him of something he ate while on earth.  
For the Buzzards main armaments included a massive hammer, and with the ability to have a surge of energy in each swing, like a surge of lightning with each swing. When facing the animals on one of their wretched worlds called Vectra. The filth ridden world was decent for the mud hole that it was when first combat actions were taken the Black Buzzard went into battle only bringing a mere 200 berzerkers in his landing craft, once the craft touched down chaos to the highest degree was brought upon the animals. Buzzard leaped from the animals that were watching the display were turned to red vapor by the Buzzard. Mighty warhammer sometimes swinging from one fist some times in two the crackle of each swing as the energy as the blunt weapon made contact with each animal would defining unprotected sub-human ears. Not a single shot was fired by the berserker horde upon initial contact with the enemy, while many puny pulse guns were fired at the army surging down the streets, not a single shot managed to harm the horde. By the time the animals had to respond with their worthless excuse at resistance the Buzzard and his troops had freed 30 miles of animal filth, then tractor tanks and armored personnel carriers, the A.P.C.s disgorged swathes of animals ripe for the slaughter and meat curing for that is what they were there on Vectra for, a lovely family shopping trip. A few of Buzzard's marines had already started eating some of the more whole fallen animals and ignored those that weren't completely turned into a thin red paste. his black armored warriors munching away as the tanks started to one of the boulevards. One of the animal machines stopped and locked on the marines a massive boom resounded and sadly turned the berzerker into a shower of armor and meat. Buzzard saw this and the war cry could be heard through his helmet, he locked on the filthy tank that killed one of his men, with a massive boost of strength he reached the machine within a few leaps. When he reached the tank, jumping onto the driver's hatch, Buzzard reached under the rotating turret and began to lift seconds later the whole main cannon turret was ripped from its housing and tossed aside, the metal impact on the asphalt street resounded down the boulevard, some of the animals tried to scramble away, but the Buzzard just grabbed them one by one and squeezed crushing skulls and ribs with only small amounts of effort on his part, the ones that didn't run were crushed like the old earth game whack a mole from ancient earth innards and viscera squishing out in all directions. To add to the Buzzards crescendo of carnage, he pulled the dual barrel machine gun off his back, firing the 50 BMG DU while not the largest caliber compared to his other combat counterparts, but his rate of fire was second to none. As soon as the weapon was off his back, an APC had just unloaded fresh animals, in one hand, a gun in the other a massive hammer. Beneath his helmet, smiled, and pulled the trigger, hot green tracer rounds started to fly shredding all in his way. At the same time, he fired he calmly walked the gun barking, kicking up dust, debris, and gore wherever the bullets landed.  
The final member of the council was Jack. Yes, Jack, the most normal-sounding name of the entire assembly. The Uplifted marine was far from ordinary. The trooper's face was a grotesque bloated with a grey pigment of Jack's eyes were two different sizes with his right eye bulging out of the socket almost on the verge of popping out. Yet, his eyes could blink, and even though the skin had a hard time stretching over the swollen eye. His mouth hung partially open teeth rotting, yet still very sharp, intact inside the mouth they inhabited, his tongue was black if he so much as licked a unprotected animal the skin would start to rot and peel away all while the victim would scream in agony with the pain. Jack's torso had the same skin color the grey and rotten look; his stomach looked like he gorged himself on animal and sub-human flesh at every hour of every day. While this is true, it was also a farce, his midsection is to hold his one of his secret weapons. Jack's skin was synthetic, and under his girth were explosives sometimes large with high explosive yields. Barry could see the marine scratching his belly. His favorite was this weapon called a melta charge. The bomb alone could melt tanks and blow small holes in animal starships. Barry could see the sizeable explosive bulge under the fake skin, Barry winced each time he saw the outline of the bomb.  
Jack was a unique Uplifted marine; he was eternal, just like the rest of the collective. However, Jack used his body as a weapon and had more respawns than the rest of the council combined. Even though they had invented the eternal project and "loaned" the technology to the fools in the pantheon who thought they were the true masters of the Uplifted, but just like the other fleets, they were just puppets. Jack's respawns took many resources, but it was worth it because his deaths killed many animals and sub-humans. While in combat, Jack was only able to wield one weapon, his right arm was a massive plasma spewing flamethrower. The jet that spewed out could turn even the most armored opponent to molten slag. Jack's arm was a pure muscle with the flamethrower built-in with just a thought he could transform his hand into the death-dealing jet of plasma. His left arm was unremarkable, on the verge of atrophy and at risk of falling off the limb did nothing, but act as a message of fear and dread to look at the arm was to look at the true monster that it was attached to. The other offensive capability was Jack's shotgun, the gun was a double-barrel automatic shotgun. The weapon replaced Jack's left leg. And with the same tech as his arm, it was neurally linked to his brain with a thought he could fine the weapon. The shotgun could spew out hot lead at fast rates, Jack had to carry a large pack filled with magazines of ammo to keep his gun spewing death, and blown animals apart left and right. 

After surveying each of his colleges, in turn, noting each of their positions and specializations. Barry stood spread his arms apart than with a grin that would make the devil cringe in fear. Bright red globe eyes taking each member of the sitting at the round table of the Uplifted council chamber, he spoke with excitement. "Gentlemen!"  
All heads turned towards their leader. "Shall we begin?"  
In the depths of the Argo, the seven members of the council chittered and spoke. Some may ask, what was the meeting for? To animal ears, it sounded like nothing to the Argo members, and it was clear the time to take action was upon them. The age of the Uplifted will be brought to the galaxy once and for all.


	2. Waystation Siminov Gamma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written by Magos Bot

“Seal’s holding.” LS-182, Vikram, sat crouched in front of the small readout panel on their side of the airlock. He tapped a few more buttons on his tablet before continuing, “Pressure on the other side, we can breach at your leisure.”. “Excellent. Rollins, Van Houten, prepare to provide cover. Burst is on point.” These words were spoken by lieutenant Ellis, leader of Killteam Firehawk. They'd been on the trail of this band of pirates for months, not normally a job for a unit as elite as a dark ops killteam, but these pirates were special. Brutal terror attacks, no survivors, always missing civilians. Weapons and armor that turned repub army garrisons to literal shreds. Ellis couldn’t help but feel a chill down his spine as the images of the carnage left behind in the hotel complex came back unbidden. He steeled himself and shouldered his N4. “Burst. Whenever you’re ready.”  
Burst’s comm clicked twice, indicating that he’d understood. He held up his off hand, three fingers raised.

Rollins shouldered his N4.

Two fingers.

The airlock was silent save for the quiet whine of Van Houten’s SAB spooling up for maximum discharge.

One finger.

The detcord went off, the concussion shook the thin boarding umbilical as the inner airlock door of waystation Siminov Gamma was blown inwards, sailing almost seven feet through the air in the lowered gravity. Burst took off like a rocket firing his shotgun twice before the remains of the door had hit the ground and fired three more shots in as many steps. Two of the pirates hit the ground, one missing both arms, the other with a hole where his thorax used to be. The third one failed to fall down, it immediately drew his weapon and began firing at the legionnaires. Two more shots rang out from Burst’s shotgun, each sufficient to stop a leej in full armor dead in his tracks. 

Van Houten’s SAB opened up not even a quarter second after Burst’s last shot, a quarter second too late, as the pirate got two more shots off before the killteam’s combined fire took him down. Rollins went down clutching his shoulder.   
They rushed out of the airlock into the corridor beyond, now impossibly silent after the violence just a few moments ago.

They waited for six seconds. Then twelve, no more contacts appeared. Ellis crouched behind a cargo crate, keeping his blaster pointed down the length of the corridor. “Vikram, check on Rollins, see that he gets in fighting shape. We’re outnumbered as it is.”  
“Aye Sir.” Vikram acknowledged as he fell back to the airlock, where Rollins was already cutting away his synthprene undersuit. “ ‘course it’s the kelhorned medic that gets shot first.” Van Houten grumbled. “It’s a through and through.” Rollins reported, pulling out a canister with his unwounded arm. “Some Bioclott and a skinpatch and I’m up again, no gymnastics, but I can still fight.” Ellis didn’t look back. “Make it happen. Double time.”

++Incoming Report++  
-Corridor 23-C, Level 4  
-Contact lost with units LSU-23, LSU-19 and MCU-5  
-Deploy QRF? [ Y/N ]

Exemplar Samuel blinked away the message. Opening his strategic interface and dispatching two of his Heavy combat units to the location of the incident. Losing two skirmishers was going to get him in trouble, but that was a worry for later.  
If his Heavy combat unit was down without even getting a distress signal off, these weren’t the animals’ usual troops. He’d seen plenty of those as they conducted their acquisition mission. Even with the element of surprise, not even a full squad of these “republic marines” didn’t stand a chance against a HCU.  
He engaged his sentinels and tapped into the live feed of HCU-3, currently en route to the last known point of contact.

Killteam Firehawk moved swiftly through the corridors. The padding on the soles of their boots reducing the sounds of their footfalls to near inaudible levels. They had been breaching and clearing about a third of the rooms they passed so far, and encountered not a single living soul. The team had elected to take a risk, and forego clearing every room in favor of moving to the command bridge as fast as they could. To try and locate the missing civvies from there.  
As they reached a corner they stacked up once more. Burst turned the corner lightning quick and the team followed suit. No contacts again, another empty corridor in a station that was supposed to have a crew of hundreds.

Then Rollins screamed.

HCU-3 held the enemy by his head, his hand easily encompassing the back of the enemy’s helmet. The man tried to twist around and shoot him, so HCU-3 brought up his right arm and snapped the enemy’s arm. He felt a pleasant tingle in his head as the monitor rewarded this action by releasing some endorphins into his system. Now the enemy had pulled a small object from this belt, and was trying to push it against HCU-3’s chest. The other enemies had also reacted to HCU-3 and HCU-5, firing their weapons at them. HCU-5 raised his weapon arm and began spraying them with 6mm tungsten flechettes. A loud sound rang through his brain, this hurt HCU-3. +++WARNING - Explosive device, Heavy Damage likely.+++ A red circle appeared around the small object the enemy was holding against this chest. HCU-3 understood. He dropped the enemy and placed his foot on his back, then he bent down.

Rollins felt a pain like he had never felt before in his right arm. The thing was gripping his bucket with enough force that there were cracks in the visor, and he could feel blood running down his forehead. But it was nothing, nothing at all compared to the pain in his right arm. Through the haze of pain and adrenaline he managed to take the fragger of his belt and set it to Anti-Armor, four second countdown. He twisted round as best he could and pressed the grenade against the things chest, where he hoped it’d do the most damage.  
Then he was falling. Instinctively his right arm swung forward to break his fall, as he hit the ground the universe went white with pain. When he could think again, he felt the creatures fingers grasping his arm, tightly gripping it just below the shoulder.  
Then it pulled. He screamed again at the top of his lungs as the flesh tore and tendons snapped, then the arm came free. It sailed down the corridor, grenade still clasped in his hands, and exploded in mid air. It was the last thing Rollins saw.

The blast was close enough to make Vikram falter in his steps, he twisted around to fire a burst at the two monsters, and saw what was left of Rollins. He didn’t give his mind a chance to process it, he merely pulled the trigger and then he was looking forward again.  
He dashed after Ellis through the door noticing Burst laying face down just beside it. 

No sooner was Vikram through the door and Ellis rammed the button to close it. Van Houten had already overturned a table and was leveling his SAB at the doorway. He turned his attention to Vikram. “Did they get you!” the words came out louder than he had intended, “I’m fine, I’m fine.” Vikram’s voice was hoarse, out of breath. “Rollins is dead. Sure as anything. Burst is down.”  
“Burst is dead.” That was Van Houten, his voice was strained. “Saw the front of his bucket come apart as that thing tore into him from behind. We’re it.” Vikram Swore. These were no Kelhorned pirates. This was the sort of sket you heard in old stories of the savage wars. He reloaded his N4. Ellis was already setting detpacks at the top of the door, preparing for the inevitable breach. When he was done he set up behind a table of his own. “Vikram, prepare to breach that back wall. You’re pulling out of this station, and you won’t be back with less than a platoon. We need to get this intel back to legion command, no matter the cost. Get to the shuttle, We’ll hold em off.”  
Vikram nodded solemnly and pulled out his plasma torch. “I’ll get to it. KTF.” The other two replied in unison. “KTF.”

HCU-3 Stood in front of the closed door. His query to the administrator had been met by a standby order as reinforcements were rerouted. Those had now arrived in the form of HCU-8 and BU’s one through five. The Combat and breacher units had set themselves up, on the administrators command they detonated the charges. The firefight lasted less than two seconds. The enemies inside got off four shots, three of which were fired from the heavy automatic blaster carried by the tall one. The breachers had fired 12 20MM mass reactive shells each, and HCU-5 and 8 put out a total of 200 6mm flechettes from their weapon arms. As they confirmed the kills, their respective monitors secreted another generous dose of endorphins.

+++Incoming Transmission.+++  
-Report begins, Administrator Exemplar Samuel.  
-Four confirmed kills, Legion Special operatives.  
-One Captive, Legion special operative, Cattle Grade S.  
-Three losses. 1x Medium Combat Unit. 2x Light Scout Unit.  
-No damage to product.  
-242 Heads of cattle, Grade A, ready for shipment.  
-Report ends.


End file.
